


The Winds of Vanaheim

by geekinlikeaboss



Category: Logyn - Fandom, MCU, Marvel, nanihoo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, OC, nanihoo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:10:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5562958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekinlikeaboss/pseuds/geekinlikeaboss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was Thor's love of his brother than saved Loki's life as he fell from the BiFrost. But it may not have been for the best. Loki has no friends left in Asgard, and the threat of execution and exile hangs like a blade over his head. When an offer is made, Odin makes the choice to put his sons life over the laws of his people. He has no illusion that Loki will be grateful for it. As the King of Vanaheim comes to collect their new prince consort, Loki leaves behind the only home he as ever known for one where he neither belongs, nor is entirely welcome. </p><p>*~* This fic is based off the amazing work of nanihoo and her Consort AU. It has been created with her knowledge and permission. Please take the time to look up her art on tumblr and drool copiously*~*</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Winds of Vanaheim

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nanipp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanipp/gifts).



The room was not his own, but he knew where he was.. The realization that he was still in Asgard was of no comfort to him as he lie there, pain splitting his back. Hands dipped into a silver basin and drew out cold water, touching a cloth to his forehead. His vision was blurry, but he would know that palm anywhere. “Mother.” he breathed out, looking into the halo of golden hair and wishing above hope that there would be a smile there.

“Oh my son. My Loki.” Frigga touched his cheek sadly. “What have you wrought?”

He started to sit up, but the sharp shock of pain made him lie back once more. He looked through the room, the remnants of the battle laid out as though presenting evidence to a court. His beautiful golden armor was in pieces, his helmet off to one side, the left horn broken off while the right was bent beyond repair. A prism of light told him that there were pieces of the BiFrost near by. The bridge that could bind the realms together had been broken through his folly. And there, afforded it's own place as though a victim of this, was Gungnir. 

Loki could see his reflection in the spear and the sight of himself was too much. 

“Why, Loki?” Frigga moved a lock of hair from his blackened eye. 

Perhaps he would have answered her. He certainly looked at the woman who had raised him as though he wanted to explain himself. But what his answer might have been, the Queen never found out. The Einherjar came through the doors in their golden armor, spears at the ready. They bowed to their Queen and stood as one solid mass of force in the room. “Your Majesty.” The lead guard addressed her. “Forgive our interruption. The All Father demands that his son be sent to him, along with the spear.” 

Frigga's hand clenched his firmly, as though she could give him strength through this one gesture of tenderness. “His son is still injured and healing. He may not yet be able to stand...”

Loki moved, forcing himself to use the muscles that protested movement so violently. He swung his legs over the side of the couch and refused any hand to rise. “I am ready.” he leveled his eyes with the guards, willing into them the reminder than, not so long ago, they would not have dared to stand before him without taking the knee. He walked, the limp surely not going unnoticed as he reached for the spear of kings, wrapping his fingers about the grip. It was amusing on some level, that the weight of it now seemed so much greater. 

Frigga watched him, and could not hide the pride in her eyes as Loki turned and adjusted himself, Gungnir as much a walking stick as anything else. “Be strong my son.” she gave, the only advise she could offer him at this time. She would always love him. That was one constant he never doubted. But like queens through out history, her loyalties could not be divided. She loved him with the heart of a mother. But Odin was not just her husband. He was her king. 

Loki smiled through a split lip, his white teeth bared like a jackal laughing. “For you mother. As always.” he touched his hand to his breast and the Einherjar parted, allowing for him to take his place between them. He gave no glance backwards. If his doom lay down the path he was taken, he would rather see it coming. 

The guards turned sharply left and lead him through the servants halls. The grand, pillared corridors were meant to impress and define the character of the house of Bor. But snaking through any well staffed noble household were dozens of little pathways, enabling servants to move freely and, more often than not, without being seen. Loki had learned them well by the time he was in his early youth and made use of them often. Still, he took it as the insult it was meant to be. He was being dealt with quickly and quietly, out of the sight of the court and ranking noble houses. But then that made sense. Surely the great and powerful All Father would not want many of the facts surrounding this incident to become publicly known. It would be shameful beyond comparison. 

And yet was he not guaranteed a public trial by virtue of his standing if nothing else?

A servant holding a water just and basket wandered into the hall and quickly scurried back out to avoid being trampled. Beyond this, Loki saw no one as they continued down the pathways. The men in their golden armor were escorts, not companions. And Loki saw no reason to lower himself to asking them any questions. He eyed the sconces lit with soft blue flame and his mind began to work through his own knowledge. Three turns right. Five turns left. Past the servants kitchens and then another left.

For one brief moment, his steps faltered. They were not headed to the throne room. Nor even to the dungeons. Loki felt the same skip in his chest as he did when he was a child. They were walking him to Odin's chambers. 

Wrought into the golden doors was the Yggdrasil, the tree that connected the nine realms and safe guarded them through it's roots. Loki could count on one hand the number of times he had ever been into the All Father's private chambers. And none of them had been particularly pleasant occasions. There was always a sense of foreboding whenever he was alone with the one eyed man. A sense that he was being peered at for some flaw or lacking that he himself could not perceive. Of course now he understood what Odin had found so disappointing about him. And it provided him with no sense of security as the doors swung open and he was brought to stand before the king.

Old he might be. Old and grizzled and battle worn. But standing before him, his face like a statue carved into the side of a mountain, there was no doubting the sheer presence of the All Father. 

The Einherjar parted and Loki understood almost by instinct what he was meant to do. He steeled himself and walked forward, his eyes glaring in accusation and sorrow. Once, when he was young, he and Thor had gone hunting bear in the great pine forests. Thor, hungry for the hunt and a chance to brag, had not paid enough attention and failed to realize that their quarry was a mother bear with her cubs. The look she had given them as Thor had slain her was the same. Yet as Loki approached, he saw a reflection of sadness in the stormy blue eye. Odin held out both his hands, but not to embrace his adopted child. 

Loki lifted the spear and gave it one last clench before presenting it back to it's rightful owner. 

“All hail the All Father!” 

The sentiment was echoed around the room, and Loki became aware of the presence of many more people. He darted quickly about, looking at the cloaked and hooded figured occupying the space. Try as he might, they were shrouded in their clothing and in the dark of the rooms, lit only by the crackling flame of the braziers. Cowards. He lifted his nose, sneering as though everyone were beneath him even now. At the very least he had a right to face his accusers. His look of disdain faltered as he caught Odin's glare and Loki made himself appear impassive. Better to hold the veneer of disinterest then let himself be lowered. 

Odin turned his back and walked to the middle of the room, wielding the spear with a commanding crack against the marble tiles. He spread his cape and took his seat at the center of the room. The guards pushed Loki forward and suddenly he was standing alone, looking every part the broken prince. 

There is a long, terrible silence. Odin is tapping his fingers on the arms rest, regarding Loki. One can almost hear the wheels turning in his mind as though searching for some alternative to what must be done. 

Finally, Loki can bare it no more. “Am I to stand here all night waiting for my judgment? Execution at three in the morning doesn't have quite the same flare as beheading at dawn.” 

There is a murmur from the figures as Odin fixes him. “Silence.” he calls and the room obeys. “Loki, you should rejoice in your good fortune. Today you will travel to our sister realm of Vanheim. You will meet with their king and, once the details have been handled, you shall find yourself in the honorable position of Prince Consort of the royal court.” His tone is strained and ready for argument, reading the change in expression as his words sink in. “I will expect for you to conduct yourself in a manner befitting a prince of the house of...”

“What manner of crude jest is this?” Loki asks, his voice a whisper on his lips. “Do you seek to mock me in my fall? Or is this some ill contrived lie to keep me docile until I am to meet my fate?”

“This is no jest. The King of Vanaheim had entered a plea some months ago, requesting a union between our house and their own. We did not seek to entertain it at the time. Now it would appear that this is a well made match.” Odin eyed Loki critically. “We are willing of course to dispense with the tradition of the eldest being wedded first.” 

“Damn the eldest!” Loki snapped, walking forward. Te guards moved, but he made sure not to come too close to the king. He pointed his finger and his voice followed it sharply. “What game are you playing with me father? What end would you have me meet in Veneheim that can not be dealt out here in my own country?” 

“Your end is your own affair, my son.” Odin's hand tightens on the spear as he gestures for someone to come forward. “All I can provide you with is a new beginning.” The figured takes the knee and presents a scroll, the wax seal baring a fat bunch of grapes spilling into a bowl brimming over with wine. It is the sign of the royal house of Njord, confirming the legitimacy of this offer. Odin takes the scroll, extending his hand over a pedestal that whirls and hums with blue power. Paper crinkles as the scroll is unwound and the projection of it casts a pale light through out the room. 

Loki's eyes scan the writing speculatively as the scribe does his duty, reading the words aloud so that there can be no confusion as to their meaning. The penmanship is excellent, though it looks to have been finished off hastily. For what it's worth, his hand is not being offered cheaply. But this is small comfort. “So...this is the truth of my worth.” he almost wants to laugh. “It would seem even in defeat my value has always been tied to how it may best benefit the All Father.” 

“You are of the royal family, Loki.” Odin says clearly, as though challenging anyone to doubt it. “It was always certain to Us that your presence would bind the realms together in one way or another. That you should do so through the bonds of matrimony is a far better circumstance than other which were presented.” He leans forward, gesturing lighting with the spear. “This will ensure your future and your security for millennium to come. You will not be lessened in your stature...”

“Shall I be a King?”

Odin's blue eye narrowed. “No.”

Loki's grin split his cut again. “Than I am afraid, dear father, that I shall be greatly lessened.” He gestured is a wide movement, making a few of the figures jump from the startle. “But please! Do not think me ungrateful, All Father. After all, a stolen relic does not often get the opportunity to choose the mantle they will adorn.” 

“You mistake yourself. You are not being given a choice.” 

The lean man turned, within his green eyes flashed a spark of anger. “I am still a free citizen of Asgard. I have neither been accused, nor imprisoned nor tried. And I may still refuse an offer of marriage set before me if it pleases me to do so.” He looked around the room. “Can any free citizen of Asgard not choose for themselves who they may be bound to? Would we call into question traditions older than ourselves by thousands of years?”

“Loki!”

“Shall we set then that the laws may be manipulated to suit the needs of one rather than for the safety and security of all?” He could not help but feel gratified at the contentious murmur that rippled through the gathered figures. Like many ambitious tricksters through out the ages, he'd always had a flare for inciting political divisions. And the foundations of the House of Odin were not so strong as they once were. 

“Loki you will hold silent!” 

“Or perhaps we have become settled in the idea of one wielding all of the power without hesitation as to how he may use it...”

“Loki.”

He stilled his voice, watching Frigga make herself apparent from the crowd. Perhaps it really was her. He had no doubt she would want to be present for this, even if some were rather she not be. Odin regarded her with a level of respect and acquiescence that told Loki he had not been expecting her. Still, she walked to her husband and put her hand over his clenched fist. “You are of course a free citizen. But are we not still your parents? Will you refuse a good match, one that will only help you merely from spite?” 

He was never such a fool as to fail to see where his own interest lay. But there was a bitter taste in it being ordered from him rather than offered. “I am not a bauble to be passed about and traded for the sake of an alliance.” he stated carefully. “I am not to be kept and polished until someone finds a use for me through bribery.” 

“Is that what you feel we have done?” Frigga keeps her hand where it is, silently pressing Odin to give her the opportunity to sway him. “Has there ever been a prince or princess who's hand in marriage did not hold value? You are not being sold at the marketplace or swapped for bread, my son.”

“Am I not? Or are the both of you so very keen to be rid of me?” 

The hurt in his voice was almost too much and Frigga gasped slightly. Odin took the reins once more. “You have only yourself to blame for the expedited manner of this union. And yet despite your clear resentment of me I am only trying to do what I can to help you, my son.” Odin clacked the spear down hard and the projector skipped, the blue light fading from the room as the scroll landed from it's position. “Why can you not see this?” 

“I have neither asked for nor do I desire this distorted mess you call help!”

“Then you will be imprisoned!” Odin rises from the bench before he finished the sentence. The crowd starts to roar and chant, some in agreement with their king, others yelling that the accused has a right to speak for himself. Some still are only offering out useless, inane suggestions. 

“Fell jotun! Leave him on the ice wastes where he belongs!” 

“Usurper! Trickster!”

And a part of him revels in the chaos. 

Through the onlookers, Loki spies one figure not moving, but stand with arms crossed. He catches a glimpse of a red curl and a smile, but can see no more before his attention is pressed back to Odin and Frigga, who is trying to calm her furious husband. He can see her angrily mouthing 'Enough! Enough from both of you!' to him before setting her jaw in a hard line. “Loki!” she turns, forcing him to look at her. “For one moment, for but one moment can you not see what is needed from you?” she rushes forward and slaps him, drawing silence from the crowd and Loki. “For so long you wished for the respect and prestige that was given so easily to your brother. And now, when we call upon you as a prince to do what is required of you, you would refuse it because the position does not come with a pretty chair and a stick?” Frigga holds her hand out, demanding the contract be brought to her. “We are standing before you, asking you, for once, to take responsibility upon yourself and to cease behaving like an entitled child.” she hisses out through her teeth, though the voice echoes in the closed off room. 

Loki grimaces dully, but says nothing. 

“Loki, my son. I watched one child cast from his home and thought I would never seen him again. Do not make me watch another fall.” 

He thought of the endless sea of stars as the Bifrost faded before his vision. For one brief moment, the unforgiving expanse of the universe stretched out before him and he knew for certain that he was to be swallowed up whole by it. He saw a massive object hurtle towards him and believed it a star until it ricocheted back and slammed into his body, forcing him both into someones hands and into the blackness of unconsciousness. 

Loki could not tell what hurt worse. The realization that he had failed all of her hopes for him, or that, in this moment, he hated her for not coming to his defense. But he took the scroll and unfurled it enough to see the line waiting for his name. “I shall need a quill.” 

Frigga breathed out as though she had been holding it this whole time. The scribe came forward with a lap desk, holding it in place with steady hands as Odin nodded to one of the figures. 

A part of him felt he should at least pretend not to care, but Loki caught himself eyeing the person with curiosity. The hood fell back and a mane of reddish brown curls sprang out, a diadem of gold grape vines and amethyst fruits marking her for what she was. It rested there as the only indication of her rank, for Loki realized as she came closer that this had truly been done with a need for haste. She still wore her traveling boots. 

Some mannerisms can not be quickly expunged. And Loki had spent over a thousand years in the palace. Without thinking his first instinct was to cross his arm over his waist and incline his head towards her. She smiles and did the same, which only confirmed his suspicions. “The King of Vanaheim? King Sigyn?” he chuckled dryly. “How amusing.”

“Should you find me a humorous figure?” She watched him, her lips in a wry grin under a heap of dark freckles. “Or am I to take this as a poor joke at my title?” Two women flanked her, and she gestured for them to come closer. “These are my handmaidens, Var, and Lofn. They stand here as my witnesses and my seconds should to come to it.” She then took the quill and signed with a flourish that matched the scrawled handwriting at the bottom of the contract.

There was no need for formal introductions. Not really. The more he looked at her, the more he felt a level of familiarity to this woman. He couldn't place it off hand. But he marked it in his mind for later. Sigyn handed him the quill and as he took it, she gripped his fingers and turned his hand, placing a quick, brief kiss to the back. The gesture took him by surprise, and he arched an eyebrow at her, not entirely sure what to make of it. But he took the quill, dipped it in the pot, and signed his name with her own. The ink bled into the paper, soaking it up like a vow. 

Var and Lofn each signed, baring witness to the occasion, as did Frigga. Odin took hold of the scroll and returned it to the scribe. Copies would be drawn up and delivered later, but now there were more pressing matters. 

Sigyn clasped his forearm and held it tight. “By right as King of Vanaheim, I have come to court and claim thee, Loki Odinson, as my consort and my partner, in life and in honor.” 

Loki felt the binding magic begin. Marriage between those of lesser rank might begin and end as they willed it. But when those in power made vows, they were made to stick. It didn't do to have the ruling family constantly changing hands back and forth over something petty. Still, there was a strength to the spell he did not expect. And as he shifted his gaze to Odin, it hit him what was happening. As the golden light extended from Sigyn's palm, his own had yet to answer it. But what choice did he have? 

“By consent as Prince of Asgard, I bend to your claim, Sigyn Njordchild, and accept my role as consort and partner, by my life and honor.” He almost spat the words at her and her smug little grin. Sure enough, as his own light joined with hers, it did not meet in the middle, but flowed up her arm. A place in him began to be emptied, and went hollow before Odin could clasp their arms together. 

“It is so.” he proclaimed. 

There was a backlash between them and Loki's breath caught in his throat as he saw a burst of energy. No one else reacted to it. But a mage would know it. Sigyn took seemed to take a moment steadying herself, but it was Loki who collapsed on the floor. He grasps internally for some kind of hold on his power and a little of his panic dies down as he feels it in his subconscious. But as he tries to call it forward, it dies in his chest. Fettered and stunned, he tries to find his composure and fails. Perhaps it is the backlash of raw magic, but the fatigue and emotional exhaustion aren't helping matters. Warm hands cup his face and he looks up, expecting to see Frigga helping him to his feet. Instead, he sees blue eyes and red hair, pulling him up to stand on his own. “Find your feet, my Loki.” Sigyn tells him, straightening him up as Lofn brings her a cloak of maroon sable fur. She flings it around his shoulders, doing the clasp neatly and smoothing it out over his chest. Her hand lingers for a moment, pressing there with tender possession before she relents. “All Father, dawn is coming. If we wish to leave, we should do it now.”

Odin nods as Frigga puts her forehead to Loki's. She can't find words, which is just as well. All of them would sting in his ears. His brown is sweating and he feels too warm in the early summer heat and the overly heavy cloak. There is a humidity to the air and a damp smell that prickles his skin. Almost on cue, the skies break open and rain beings to pour outside. If he'd been in a better mood, he might have called it an omen. But as it is, he is clinging to the arm offered to him but to keep going.

Once again they are lead through the palace in secret ways. Sigyn's hand does not leave his own, but he doesn't complain. She's the only thing keeping him on his feet. The guards have stepped back, but then again they wouldn't be wanted now. The moment the contract was signed, he was no longer under the banner of Asgard. If he were to rebel or make a break for freedom, it would be the responsibility of Vanaheim's King to control her new husband. He dully wonders if this might have been a part of the plan, but his head hurts too much to take the thought any further. 

Sigyn pulls the cloak up over his head, fussing over it to protect him from the rain as they rush into the courtyard. It feels like some strange, clandestine mission from a fantastic story. A foreign king, sneaking from the palace with the kidnapped prince held in ransom. Only there is no ransom. And while he is reluctant, this is no kidnapping. Loki sees four horses waiting for them, snorting and twitching their ears in the storm. He is guided to the saddle and takes hold, fixing his foot in the stirrup. But when he pushes, his strength fails him. He tries again and winces as his body protests this mistreatment and he is shoved unceremoniously from behind. 

“Var? Ride with him. I need both hands.” 

The brunette with the thick, massive braid nods and climbs easily into the saddle, wrapping an arm around Loki's waist. “Stand fast my prince.” she says, not unkindly. “It is only a few hours to the Frostgrinder. I will not let you fall.” 

A more masculine part of his pride resents the implication that he needs to be held on hid saddle by a woman. But it's followed quickly by his eyes closing and his body going limp. He awakens hours later, the jarring pace of the horses slowed to a gallop as they cross the blue green waves of grass. Loki shivers and raises his head, looking out over the hills to the gray, misty morning fog and the distant spires of gold. 

“Are you well my prince?” Var asks, her arm still tight around him. 

Loki grunts and the horse pulls to a stop. Var calls out to halt and two more horses pull back around on either side of him. 

“Is he alright?” Sigyns voice takes over and she pulls up his cowl, looking him over. 

“Do not fuss about me!” Loki snaps, slapping her hand back. “I have been riding since I was a child. I do not need to be carried about like a babe.”

“And if we let you ride on your own and you fall and crack your skull open?” Sigyn asks, looking incredulous. “You are hurt my sweet. Badly. I would haven brought a carriage for you if I had known how badly. But we make do with what we have available.” she looks around. 

“I can ride well enough on my own.” He insists, taking the reigns from an irritated Var. “Besides, she's knocking me in the back every time we gallop.” 

Lofn lets out a barking laugh as Sigyn tries to hide her humor behind a chastising look. “I can take you for a while. We only have a league or so to go.” 

Loki manages to sit op and looks her over blandly. “Wonderful. Absolutely no cushion at all.” That at the very least earns him a cross look as Var seems about ready to drop him from the saddle forcefully. 

“I get the sense that my prince will find something to complain about no matter the situation.” Sigyn purses her lips and brings her stallion up alongside of his. “You could always walk you know.”

“You would risk my injury?” Loki retorts, feigning insult. “Is your husband not entitled to his own mount?” 

Sigyn rolls her eyes and blows one of her curls out of the way. “As you will. Var, ride with your sister for now. But if he looks libel to fall I give you permission to lash him to the saddle.” As Var dismounts, looking positively miffed about the whole situation, Sigyn leans in close. “And if she gets tired of managing you, I am not above throwing you across my saddle, Prince Loki. I'd assume you would like to arrive in Vanaheim with at least some of your dignity left in tact?” 

“I will arrive there much the same I arrive everywhere.” Loki sits up, finding his position in the saddle and holding the reigns firmly. “In my own fashion.” he states and nudges the horse into a light canter. The jarring movements are sore on him, but it's better than allowing himself to be treated like a delicate maiden. He would normally have preferred a steady gait for the sheer smooth movements. But now that his awareness is slowly coming back to him, he needs the time to think. 

Var and Lofn seem to be taking guard, scouting up ahead and watching the area. They are off the main road and far from the city. And even in Asgard, it's not too uncommon for a bandit or highwayman to pick off unprepared travelers. Sigyn on the other hand seems to be determined to keep close to him, whether to keep him from galloping off or simply to ensure he doesn't go toppling to the ground, he can't be sure. But she too seems to be keeping an eye on their surroundings. 

“It's been a very long time since I was last in Asgard.” She mentions casually, looking out over the ranging hills side. “It is much the same as I remember it. Though you have changed a great deal.”

Loki grunts, but a thread of memory flashes through his head. “We have met before.” he says, though he can't quite piece it together. 

“We have. When I was very young, my father brought me to the court on a diplomatic visit.” She smiles. “We did not spend much time together. But we were introduced as is customary. I remember a scrawny little boy who tried to act like his big brother.” 

Loki frowned and drew his cloak tighter. “I remember nothing of you. Which means you were either unremarkable or determined not to be seen.” he shrugs. Either way, it confirms his sense of repetition at seeing her. While he was still quite young, Odin was fostering a sense of unity and solidifying his rule as head of the nine realms. There had been a series of galas and feasts presented to welcome the various royal families of the different realms and ensure that old alliances were kept fresh. Not to mention there was always the potential for a marriage down the line if relations were amicable. Come to that, he did remember a round, speckled girl with dark skin and front teeth too big for her mouth. There was something else associated with that memory, but he wasn't about to investigate it too closely here and now.

“Actually I wasn't terribly impressed with the court life.” Sigyn admitted. “I often wandered off to play on my own or to go and read. So no, I wasn't really in the feast hall much.” she looked over and tossed Loki a water skin. “Drink something. We'll eat when we reach the encampment.” 

Loki thought about food and his stomach turned over in nasty rebellion. Water however proved to be a much more comforting thought. As they passed into the old growth forest, a heard a large red deer crossed their path and Sigyn's eyes followed them. It was still early enough in the season for the fawns to have their spots and Loki was struck by their resemblance to her. Dusky, red and spotted. It was almost funny. He didn't invite anymore conversation they passed into the woods, and Sigyn seemed to take his silence at face value. But the roots and mounds of the forest made riding much more difficult. As he tried to muffle his pained growls, she slowed her mount and made sure to wait for him without looking behind. 

“My King!” Var and Lofn came riding back from their scout. “The Frostgrinder is within sight. We'll be there in a candle-mark.” 

“Wonderful!” Sigyn pushed back her hair, looking back at the pink faced and exhausted prince. “We're nearly there. You only need hold out a bit longer.” 

“I am...fine.” Loki pulled and tugged at the clasp, shedding the heavy cloak. It was still cold, but he didn't really need to worry over that part. If anything he felt burdened and warm. He debated letting the covering fall to the ground out of sheer pique, but couldn't quite make himself act so disrespectfully. His irritation in the moment could end up costing him in the long run. But Sigyn seemed to be dealing with his outbursts with some degree of level temperament. 

As they approached the structure, Loki couldn't help but widen his eyes in curiosity. It bore a vague, primitive resemblance to the whirling sphere of the Bifrost, but it was a passing resemblance only. The building was rigid and the forest seemed to be working steadfastly to reclaim it. Vines snaked up the stairs as they dismounted and Sigyn held her hand out to Loki. He batted it away but she snagged it easily. “I'm afraid I must insist.” she said with a grin as her handmaidens took the few travel belongings. “Treacherous footing around here.” 

Loki rolls his eyes, but in truth he wasn't paying her much mind. Ancient buildings always fascinated him. Asgard liked to think of itself as unchanging and steadfast thought out the millennium. But the truth of it was that they had progressed rapidly and left behind the vestiges of the civilization they had come from. Anything that was deemed unnecessary or too complicated to figure out was discarded. And that often meant the old magics were still lingering in places like this. As Loki probed at the area like a man with a loose tooth, he was satisfied to discern a wellspring of power here, lying dormant and sluggish. He couldn't help himself. It was the mage in him that wanted to push deeper and connect his power with it. He tried to extend his magic and got a sharp, hard crack through his chest.

“I think not.” Sigyn reminded him smoothly. “Not now at any rate. In time, if you would like, you can study it's sister in Vanaheim. But right now it won't due to fiddle with the calibrations.” 

Loki glowered at her and let out a strained noise of irritation. He shouldn't have been so foolish as to think Odin would allow him out of Asgard with full reign over his own powers. The fetters lay firmly in Sigyns grasp for now. And while it rankled him, he had neither the time nor energy to start pulling at them. 

They walked up to the high stone dome and entered. It had once been a grand building, now dilapidated into interesting but unsafe architecture. In the middle of the room, Loki can see markings not unlike those of the BiFrost. Upon closer inspection he realizes these are more circular, looping around again and again into one continuous symbol. “Fascinating.” he mutters out as Sigyn walks over to one of the nine pedestals. 

She touches one and it glows gold, the energy from it clinking and whirling with little clunky pauses. Her face scrunches in irritation and she kicks it, the whirling stopping and starting about with a much more continuous rhythm. “This portal is from my grandfathers time. Long before the Bifrost was conceived. She explains, happy to feed Loki's curiosity. “The power source is much different, and when the bridge was built it fell into disrepair. But it still works...after a fashion.” She turns a dial and the design begins to fill in with golden light. She walks over to another pedestal and this one begins to glow purple. 

Loki watches with interest as the purple and gold begin to fill up the knot work, meeting in the middle. “And this then is how you arrived here?” he questions as Sigyn turns up the dials again and the sound of whirling power becomes more cacophonous. He steps back, but Sigyn takes his hand and pulls him to the center of the circle. 

“Hold tight onto me. We don't want to get split up if this doesn't work.” 

Loki's eyes widen. He can already fell the expanse of power building in the room as Var and Lofn join them, standing close by. The pressure of it is building and his limbs are taking the damage through to the bone. “I...I...!” He feels faint, holding onto her much tighter than he means to as his knees start to give out.

“Loki?” Sigyn grabs hold of him and keeps her grip tight as the swirl of light burns up through the floor and parts the clouds, sending the booming voice of the portal through space and into another realm. Perhaps it's the spectrum of light, or more likely his dizziness, but he he can't see anything anymore. There is the sensation of movement sliding over him and in seconds it disperses. The smell in the air changes from rain and fog to dense woods and soil. He hears someone calling for aid before he blinks, and his world goes black.


End file.
